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sassy.”
    I had touched up my hair with extra blonde highlights and had cut it shorter to frame my face, very much like Tyanne’s current hairstyle. Ever since she had started an exercise regimen, her entire look had changed. She had lost weight and toned up. Divorce, in her case, had been good for her overall well-being.
    In addition to the ceremony requirements, I had two other traditions that mattered to me. I would wear my mother’s pearl earrings, the same she had worn when she married my father, and I would carry a handful of daisies—my mother’s favorite flower. How she and my father would have loved to see me walk down the aisle.
    â€œHow many people are coming?” Freckles asked.
    â€œJordan and I have invited a few friends, including all of you and our immediate family.” At the last, my cousin had strong-armed us into inviting his ex-wife Sylvie; otherwise, she would crash the party. So be it. Who needed the aggravation? Fortunately, she had not been invited to the bachelorette party. I could only imagine what she would have been saying to taunt me.
    â€œAnd the menu,” Tyanne said. “Tell them about the menu, Charlotte. Y’all, it’s so delicious, you’ll die.”
    â€œI want the whole affair to be romantic,” I said. “We’ll have a winter salad with chocolate-dipped strawberries, roasted chicken with chocolate mole sauce, and a decadent chocolate cheesecake for dessert.”
    â€œThat’s my recipe,” Delilah boasted. “I’ve been working on it for weeks. It’s got chocolate swirled throughout, and there will be a mound of whipped cream topped with shaved chocolate curls on top.”
    The others
ooh
ed their appreciation.
    Tyanne said, “Isn’t it thrilling? And how much more romantic could it be? The wedding is set during our town’s Lovers Trail festivities.”
    The Lovers Trail celebration was my septuagenarian, go-getter grandmother’s creation. She served as mayor of Providence. The festivities started tomorrow and would run for ten days, through the following Sunday. The celebration would feature sleigh rides, moveable feasts, and more. Many places, like the wineries, the ice-skating rink, and Nature’s Preserve, were hosting daily events. Otherwise, the town was divided up by main streets: east and west, north and south. On a specific day, shops and restaurants in town were to honor good old St. Valentine’s by offering candy, wine, and meals with a lovers’ theme. Fromagerie Bessette was preparing lovers’ baskets complete with heart-shaped cheeses. Next Thursday, in the wine annex, we were throwing a cheese and wine soiree. Tickets were required.
    â€œWhat could be more romantic than Providence in February?” Tyanne said. “The whole town is ablaze with twinkling lights. Everyone is in love or pretending to be.”
    â€œSome are totally in love.” Rebecca flushed pink as she ogled Deputy O’Shea. He did his best not to break his pose, but he couldn’t prevent a transcendental grin from spreading across his handsome face.
    I tried to capture that grin with my paintbrush, but I failed. Miserably. I wondered whether I could convince everyone who looked at my artwork that I was trying to emulate Picasso in his cubist period.
    â€œWhy isn’t your grandmother here, Charlotte?” Freckles asked.
    Delilah answered, “She’s busy with preparations for the weekend’s festivities.”
    Rebecca said, “Also, she has purchased the rights to the play
Love Letters
for the Providence Playhouse, so she’s busy building sets.”
    In addition to serving as mayor, my grandmother dedicated her life to making the Providence Playhouse a must-visit theater.
Love Letters
was a Pulitzer Prize finalist that focused on two people. The actor, who played a staid lawyer, and the actress, who played an unstable artist, sit side by side onstage. Though